To continue with the story. We sit around her with candles, a ring of them, she on the inside, us on the outside, the small flames between us. Still in the hall of the tall, cold house, the dimensions make no sense, the floor reaches invisible across stairwell. She has become quiet as she slumps, the silver green blanket across her back, she is on her left hip, her right shoulder lifted, her forehead to the ground, her arms bent outstretched like an animal injured, and this is what she is as she flickers into silver dragon. And flickers to woman and flickers to silver dragon again, before our eyes. Each scale a silver plate, her teeth sharp, a silver tear drops from a silver eye and she is injured, badly, a wing almost severed, someone had taken an axe to it. Not long ago while out riding my horse he came to an incredible halt from a gallop hurling me onto the pommel, my pubic bone stopped me falling. A week later he leapt and my hand landing hard on the saddle held me in place. Further in the past than that, my right jaw has been hurting, the dentist threatened root canal surgery, I said thanks I’ll do it myself and have been gargling coconut oil ever since. There’s been a pain behind my right shoulder blade, I’ve imagined it pulsing red like the epicentre of an earthquake you see on tv. And last Friday I saw my somatic experiencing woman who works on levels she’s gifted for, we’ve been doing processes simple in appearance but deep in effect, she said has anything happened since last time? and I told her the story of the silver woman turned dragon, and of the injuries I’ve accumulated since we last met, all of them on my right side, a meridian voyage from pubic bone to shoulder to jaw to fingers on my right hand. This part is unfreezing she said and we went through the processes again and that night, I couldn’t sleep for the pain in my shoulder, as if someone had taken an axe to it. When I was a child, I would see a man coming at me at night with an axe raised when I shut my eyes to sleep. The Green Woman packs the injury with wads of something soft, and The Silver Dragon lets her and we sing. The Fairy Sprite sows with her quill pen, words of comfort into injured wing. Muscles are reattached, sinews mended. My shoulder recovers.
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Dragons 🥰❤️